“Sir, you’d better listen to this,” Dualla was shaking her head.

“Put it on speaker.”

Dualla flipped a switch and a female voice filled CIC. “Fleet News has just received an unconfirmed report of an explosion on the supply carrier Bounty. President Laura Roslin, whom you heard earlier is a prisoner aboard this vessel, is feared dead.” An incredulous rumble of voices and gasps spread through CIC. “Sources say the explosion occurred after the military attempted to board the supply carrier in violation of the Bounty‘s earlier transmission.”

The Bounty had broadcast her initial message over general fleet frequencies. Within seconds, Galactica had been inundated with comm traffic. Now, in the absence of a satisfactory response, they were making guesses.

The reporter droned on but Adama was already moving. Colonel Tigh was the first to speak. “Where the frak did they get that load of crap.”

Adama cut him off. “Dualla, have Tory Foster convene the press in Conference A. I need to make a statement.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nervous voices filled the room. Questions multiplied exponentially in number and volume as Tory took to the podium. Galactica’s largest conference room was stuffed to capacity with over-caffeinated reporters, their teeth freshly sinking into the news off the wireless. Tory stood at the podium, arms outstretched, almost yelling to be heard above the din. “I can’t confirm anything right now, this is a developing situation -“ She stepped back as she noticed Adama enter the room and he quickly took the podium.

“If I could have your attention.” Adama‘s voice was measured and calm. The reporters were quick to settle attesting to the urgency of the situation and the authority of the man in front of them. A roomful of recording devices switched on as one.

“I have a brief statement and then I will take a few questions.” He paused and scanned the room gravely. “As many of you have already heard this afternoon, President Roslin did not return from a scheduled meeting with representatives of the supply carrier Bounty. I can confirm that she is still aboard this ship, now more than two hours past her scheduled return time of 1515 hrs.”

Questions came at him in waves. He raised his voice slightly. “At this time,” the voices began to abate. “At this time, we have confirmation that the President is alive and well. Reports of an explosion on the Bounty are false. We have been in contact with Vice President Zarek who is currently enroute to Galactica. The Quorum will be gathering shortly. Please rest assured that the government is continuing to operate and every possible measure will be taken to ensure the safety of the President and the crew of her Raptor. ”

The room exploded once again the moment the fleet’s commanding officer appeared finished with his statement.

The Admiral stood calmly, making it clear that he would not field any questions until order was restored. While Adama recognized many of the faces in the room, he did not have each of their names. He simply pointed from one to the next.

“Can you be any more specific about the details surrounding the President’s abduction?” A young man near the front.

“The President’s flight plan has been made public. As the situation is a developing one, information that does not compromise the safety of the President will be disseminated through Miss Foster if and when it becomes available. Next.”

“What about the identity of the President’s abductors? Has anyone claimed responsibility? Is there truth to the rumours that Vice President Zarek or the prisoners on the Astral Queen are involved?” A tall blond woman managed to get all the questions out on one breath. Adama clutched the podium with both hands but his voice remained low and steady.

“The list of the President’s enemies would be a long one. No one has been ruled out. At this point there is absolutely no reason to suspect Vice President Zarek of any involvement. He has expressed his concern and his willingness to help resolve this situation. Next.”

“Have there been any demands?”

“No. Next.”

“Are any additional measures being taken? Do you expect further attacks on the civilian government or on your own person?” This from the back of the room. He couldn’t make out the face among the bright lights of the camera operators.

“At this point it looks like an isolated incident. For the safety of the President and the crew of her Raptor, I cannot discuss our response at this time. As you know, the fleet is in a constant state of readiness. We are at war.” He glowered at them, starting to tire of the questioning.

“You say that you have reason to believe that the President is alive. We‘d like to hear that reason.”

“Reports of the President’s death are erroneous. I can give you nothing more than my personal assurance that the President is alive and well.”

“What about rumours that there are Cylons on the Bounty? Should we be preparing for a Cylon attack?”

“We are always prepared for the eventuality of a Cylon attack. If there are indeed rumours, they are completely unsubstantiated.”

“Is their truth to the rumour that Vice President Zarek has had a heart attack?”

Where the hell did that come from? Were these people insane? What would they come up with next?

“That’s completely false.”

“Who’s making the decisions for the government right now? Who‘s in charge?”

“As I explained, I am in contact with Vice President Zarek and the daily affairs of government will proceed under his authority.”

“Does this mean Tom Zarek is President?”

Adama’s glower turned hateful. “No. Thank you everyone but it is time that I returned to the situation at hand. Miss Foster will remain to attend to any further questions.” Tory looked at him in horror knowing that his words would chain her to the podium for hours. He had turned away from the crowd of reporters when the next question hit him like a knife in his back.

“Were you planning on sharing this photo with the press?”

He turned to see that willowy blond woman again, Playa?, holding a copy of the photo he had received from Colonel Tigh just half an hour ago. The whole room turned to her, the noise level peaking as eyes found the photo.

“Bring it here.” Adama’s voice cut through the commotion with precision. The reporters parted and Playa approached the podium.

“I have copies,” she told him impertinently.

“Come with me,” he gestured towards the hatch at his left and nodded to Tory to resume the conference. Playa shrugged at her fellow reporters and followed him into the corridor.

“Whatever you have to say, why can’t you say it in there?” She stood in front of him, arms crossed.

“Look, Playa is it?” He was dismayed to have to look up at her, but knew his glare would be intimidating in any case.

“Yes.”

“Turn that off.” He indicated the audio recorder in her hand. When she clicked it off he added, “Any more or do I need Michaels here to search you.” She took one glance at the marine that stood by the hatch and reached into her pocket, handing Adama a second recorder.

“Thank you. This situation is stable for now. It is vital that anyone who has any relevant information bring it to the attention of the military or their ship’s representative as quickly as possible. How did you obtain the photo?”

“Fleet courier dropped it on my desk a half an hour ago. I have the envelope in my folder in the conference room. The first thing I did was make copies.” Her attitude was irritating to say the least.

“Don’t run it.”

Her eyes flashed. “Like hell. This is the biggest story since New Caprica.”

“I know I can’t order you to do this, so I am appealing to your sense of honour. Your responsibility towards the wellbeing of your President. This photo will cause panic and panic is contagious. I can’t concentrate on resolving the situation with the President if I’m putting out fires all over the fleet. Please. Sit on this for one day.”

“And in return?” Her gaze was calculating but he was expecting this.

“A place for you in the situation room. You can record everything that’s going on. Audio only. All news releases would have to be filtered through Tory Foster or Colonel Tigh.” The move was dangerous and he knew it but part of him wanted this recorded. An undisputable record seemed necessary.

Playa actually looked like she was taking a moment to consider what had to be a reporter’s wet dream. “Very well,” she said finally.

“Thank you. Leave the photo and the envelope with Miss Foster. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He handed her the audio recorder and stepped past her and down the corridor.

***

The bullets stopped. A loud voice rang through the hanger. “We want the President. We will spare the pilot if she comes out now.”

Frak me. Kara bit down hard on her lower lip and scanned the rear of the cargo bay, mind reeling with possibilities. Settling on one, she felt Roslin settle beside her, eyeing her bleeding arm. Kara was crouched behind the nose of the ruined Raptor. She had managed to reload her weapon and held it loosely against her thigh. Kara brought her lips to Roslin’s ear.

“If they had wanted to kill you, they would have already.” Her voice was so low Roslin had to concentrate her full attention on it.

Two of their assailants cocked their weapons loudly. “Surrender you weapon. Step out from behind the Raptor. Hands behind your heads.”

Kara wasn’t sure Roslin was capable of what she had planned. Yet, no one had thought she was capable of the Presidency either. She kept talking. “Do you see the air duct on the wall to my left?”

Roslin leaned past her briefly then settled back. “Yes.”

“I’m going to slide my weapon toward them. At the same time, I’m going to move to the vent. They’ll be temporarily distracted. When you see me reach the vent, stand up and let them see you and for Gods’ sake have your arms above your head. Say anything that comes to mind. Don’t come out from behind the Raptor; tell them you have to tend to me. I should have the vent cover off by then. Dive for the vent and don’t stop moving once you’re inside. Crawl as fast as you can, as far as you can. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” If Roslin was nervous or thought the plan insane her voice didn’t reveal it.

“Now!” the shout came from their would-be captors. Roslin set her jaw and watched as Kara slid her weapon under the Raptor.

“We’re coming out!” Kara yelled as she moved silently to the air duct, the body of the Raptor shielding her from view. Satisfied that Kara had made it, Roslin forced her legs to straighten, bringing her upper body clear of the nose of the Raptor. Her one arm settled behind her head, she lifted the other as far as she was able. It took a moment to get over the shock of what she saw. Two men, their uniform and armour indistinguishable from that of the former New Caprican police force, stood pointing automatic rifles at her chest. Their faces were hidden beneath black balaclavas. The three civilians were nowhere in sight. She heard a single groan from the vicinity of her security detail and took heart.

“If it’s me that you want, I’ll come freely. Let the others go,” she said calmly and with as much Presidential authority as she could muster.

“Step out from behind the Raptor. Pilot too. Or I’m gonna start shooting.” The man on the left said and twitched his rifle.

“My pilot is injured.” Very slowly she started to lower her body, keeping her hands in view. “I’m just going to help her up.” The men nodded at her and she lowered herself the rest of the way, knee joints protesting the slowness of the action. Mouthing a brief prayer to the Gods she turned and launched herself towards the black mouth of the now open air vent. She landed awkwardly, her shins striking the outer lip of the vent as she propelled her body inside. She could hear them yelling from inside the hanger bay and ignored the pain, scrambling forward as fast as she could in the dark. She had made it no more than twenty metres when something shot out and grabbed her arm. Swallowing a scream, she allowed Kara to pull her through a perpendicular junction in the venting.

“Follow me. No matter what you hear, don’t stop unless I do.” Kara turned and scrambled forward on hands and knees. Roslin followed, cursing her long legs. She could hear the echo of voices from where they’d come and tried to move faster.

***

“Conference room A has been set up for the press, and we’ve arranged for the visiting government officials to occupy Conference B. The Quorum will be gathering there shortly.” Dualla walked shoulder to shoulder with Vice President Zarek, two aides following in their wake. “You’ve been assigned temporary quarters. I’ve been directed to escort you for a brief meeting with the Admiral before you’ll join the Quorum.”

Zarek was busy watching the crew of Galactica as they passed. Some nodded at him; others threw daggers with their eyes. When Dualla seemed to be expecting something he said “Thank you, Lieutenant. …Dualla is it?” He focussed his attention on the slight woman beside him and smiled warmly.

“Yes, sir.” Dualla didn’t look up from the pile of notes in her hands.

Zarek leaned in conspiratorially and lightly set a hand on Dualla’s shoulder. “For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “I want to thank you for the efforts you made during the rescue from New Caprica. You took an awful risk, and I for one am very grateful.”

Dualla’s eyes snapped over to Zarek’s. “With all due respect, sir, I‘m not the one you should be thanking.” Thank the Admiral. Thank Lee. They had reached the door to Adama’s quarters and Dualla looked up to find the Admiral striding towards them. She stepped to the side, putting distance between herself and the Vice President and came to attention.

“As you were.” Adama extended a hand towards Zarek. Swallowing his surprise, the Vice President fought the urge to look around them for the press as he clasped the Admiral’s hand. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Vice President. It is unfortunate we aren’t meeting under better circumstances.”

Nice gesture, you wish we weren’t meeting at all. “Tom, please. Thank you, Admiral. I share your concern for the President and I know how important it is to preserve continuity of command under these circumstances. For the people’s morale.”

Adama scowled. He looked about to say something and then held back. He eyed Zarek’s aides before spinning the hatch to his quarters. “You’ll need to make a brief statement to the press.”

“Not a problem.”

“Good.” Adama eyed his aides again. He looked at Zarek. “Can we leave them outside?”

Zarek smiled that snake oil salesman smile of his and put his hands on his aides’ shoulders. “Give us a minute, ok.” They nodded and didn’t follow when the two men entered Adama’s quarters.

Adama walked to his water pitcher and poured two glasses. “Water?”

“Yes, thank you.” Zarek took the offered glass. “What’s the latest?”

“Please, sit.” Adama indicated the chair opposite him across the table. Zarek sat.

“We’ve had no further communication from the Bounty. They still refuse to answer hails. Major Adama is working on a tactical assault plan. This is a copy of the photo we received an hour ago. Lt. Gaeta is still verifying the original.” He slid the photo across the desk.

Zarek was quiet then as he studied the photo. Adama’s stomach turned slightly as Zarek ran his finger lightly over Laura’s image. He met Adama’s eyes, displaying a depth of emotion that Adama did not expect. “At least we know Laura’s ok.”

Laura. There it was in the background, that enigma that was New Caprica. Enough happened that Laura saw fit to make this man her Vice President and if Adama let himself think clearly about it, he burned to know exactly what. “For now. It’s been a while and no demands.”

“That’s unusual.” Zarek grew pensive. He knew Adama would consider him somewhat of an expert on this subject, the terrorist that he had been. “Maybe they already have what they want.”

Adama nodded slowly. “Maybe. Maybe they’re just patient. The question is, who‘s behind this?” Adama pushed a pile of papers towards Zarek. “This is the revised passenger manifest for the Bounty. I’d appreciate it if you would go through it with your associates and see if any names stick out. Even by omission.”

“My associates?” Zarek almost snickered at hearing the former prisoners of the Astral Queen referred to in this way. “Of course, anything I can do to help. New Caprica complicates things though.”

“In what way?”

Zarek sighed. “Out here, everyone’s divided by ship. New Caprica changed that; people who quite literally had never seen each other before could interact every day. This could well extend farther than just the Bounty.“ He studied Adama’s face. “It bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“What?”

“That you’re missing more than a year, that you have no idea what went on down there. With her. Maybe that‘s why you‘re being so accommodating.”

“I don’t have time for this.” Adama stood. “Until we recover the President, you and I are going to have to figure out a way to work together. I thought it best to take the initiative. Perhaps I was mistaken.” He got up and opened the door for the Vice President. “I’m needed in CIC; Lieutenant Dualla will escort you to the press room.”

Zarek held up the papers Adama had given him as he exited the room. “If there’s anything here, I’ll find it.”

“Good.” He nodded. “Mr. Vice-President.” And strode away.

Zarek leaned to his aides and said quietly. “Find me a copy of the Articles of Colonization.”

“Right.” They nodded and Zarek moved to follow Dualla.

***

She was really tired of the sight of Kara’s ass. They had been scrambling through air duct after air duct for what felt like hours. Best guess had them four decks above and a long way aft of the hanger deck. Roslin’s knees were sore, her back, neck and wrists ached constantly. Kara’s athletic body made easy work of the endless crawling and Roslin sensed that she could have gone much faster if she hadn’t had to wait for a fifty year old woman in heels. She thanked the Gods she’d opted for a pant suit.

The space was cramped and neither Kara nor Roslin were small. Like every other civilian vessel, the ship was overcrowded and noisy. There was occasional light when they passed a vent to a lighted room but the ducts were mostly dark. And dusty. And then there was the smell. Every vessel in the fleet seemed to have its own distinct odour, none of them pleasant.

“Captain Thrace, wait.” Roslin kept her voice low. She had intermittently noticed something wet in the duct under her hands and was finally clueing in to what it was. Kara stopped and turned towards her, her back pressed against the wall of the duct. “You’re bleeding.”

Kara glanced in the direction of her arm. “I know. It’s a through and through. Not too bad.” She went to turn away again but Roslin grabbed her foot.

“Look, you’re all I’ve got here. You pass out and I’ll have to lug your ass through these frakking ducts and I don’t think my back will take it. Let me see.” She reached over to help Kara pull down the body of her flight suit, oblivious to the rather stunned look in the Captain‘s eyes.

“Back off.” Kara batted her hands away, her expression shifting slowly from indignant to sheepish. “Sorry, Madam President. But I can handle it.”

The trouble was President Roslin made her nervous. While she understood her responsibility to the woman, this had to be the most time they had spent alone together in the history of the colonies. At least on Kobol, there had been others. There had been Lee. On New Caprica, before the cylons, there had been some memorable moments but they hadn’t been friends. As President, Roslin wasn’t part of the military but she had a frightening amount of power over them. Over her. And she was … well … old. Admiral Adama was so much better at handling her. Nice choice of words, Kara.

Roslin had the urge to ask Kara to call her Laura. At least while they were stuck in this metallic version of hell. She stopped herself, figuring Kara wouldn’t react well. Billy, bless his soul, had told her a long time ago that the military operated on protocol, on respect for the chain of command.

Kara used her good arm to pull the zipper on the flight suit and it was soon pooled at her waist. Roslin had removed her suit coat and was fumbling with the sleeve of her blouse, trying to rip loose something to wrap Kara’s arm. She looked up to see Kara’s other arm extended towards her, a pocket knife in her hand. While she hated to lose it, this had never been her favourite blouse. The knife slit the seam easily and, wary of being pushed away again, she handed the sleeve to Kara. Kara took what was offered and fought a grin.

“It’s a good look, ma’am,” she said, taking in the sight of Roslin’s mismatched arms. Her bare left arm was more muscular than Kara would have expected. New Caprica explains that. The older woman actually giggled quietly and Kara gave into the grin. Using her good arm and her teeth, she bandaged her arm as best she could adding some tape salvaged from the flight suit. She thanked the Gods that she hadn’t needed Roslin to go digging for a bullet.

“What do we do now?” Roslin asked calmly as if she spent most of her afternoons in ventilation shafts.

“So far, I’ve been trying to get us as far from the hanger bay as possible. We needed to avoid pursuit. Our priority now should be to get you off of this ship. The sooner we take you out of play, the better.”

Like it was all some kind of game. Classic Starbuck. “Any ideas?”

“None you’re going to like, ma’am.”

They were interrupted by a loud whine emanating from what sounded like a public address system. They scanned the ducts as if looking for the source of the sound. The ship itself grew silent as the crowds filling its cabins and hallways also paused to listen.

“What is your name?”

The voice was muffled but the words rang clear through the metal ductwork.

“John … John Matthews.” The voice sounded forced from between clenched teeth. At the sound of it, Roslin froze.

“What do you do, John Matthews?” There was a pause. Then:

“Security for the President of the Colonies.” Kara moved towards Roslin, anticipating what was happening.

“For how long?” The voice had a conversational tone.

“Three weeks.”

A loud gasp echoed from the PA. It could only have been Matthews.

“Tell me, what am I doing now?” The words were laced with menace. There was a long pause punctuated only by the sounds of someone trying to control their breathing.

“You - You’re holding a gun to my head.”

Roslin gasped, a sound that seemed to echo down the ship’s corridors as others joined her. Her body slouched back against the wall of the duct, her eyes closed briefly.

“Thank you, John. This message is for the gophers in the ventilation system. If you are not out and standing in any of the service corridors in the next fifteen seconds, this man will die.” A pause. Then: “One… two …”

No! Roslin began to crawl towards the nearest access grate. Kara grabbed her arm. The crowds were deathly silent.

“Let. Go.” Roslin jerked her arm out of Kara’s grasp and continued toward the lighted opening.

“six ... seven …”

“Madam Pres- Laura!” Roslin turned at the sound of her first name. “Don’t. Let him do his job.”

“nine …”

What? Roslin tried to think around the dread that knotted her stomach, the incessant pounding that was her heart. She could hardly breathe.

“It’s Matthews’ duty to protect you. He’s doing it now. You step out and he’ll die for nothing.” Kara’s face was right in front of her, she had blocked the vent with her body. Roslin found her eyes and took strength from the certainty she saw there. She held on to the gaze like a drowning woman clutching the hand of her rescuer.

“thirteen … fourteen … fif … teen.” The gunshot penetrated her very soul. There were gasps and shouts from all over the aging ship. Roslin dropped her head, hands coming up to cover her mouth, auburn hair falling forward to hide the tears she couldn‘t keep from falling. Kara was silent for a respectful moment and then gently set a hand on Roslin’s shoulder.

“Come on, we gotta move.” Kara’s eyes had a sheen to them that she tried to blink away. Roslin nodded her head, sniffing loudly. She palmed away her tears, reaching to squeeze Kara‘s hand slightly as she removed it from her shoulder. She was surprised how quickly her shock and hurt sublimated into anger. She hardly knew Matthews and now the man had died for her. Thinking of her desk drawer, she realized that he had not been the first.

There was a growing rumble emanating from all over the ship. Hands banged against the metal grate nearest them, voices rising from the adjoining cabins.

“There’s someone in there!“

Light spilled into the duct as a grate further behind them burst open. Arms came through. A ship full of chronically bored Colonists had all found something to do at once. Someone to look for.

“Frak.” That had to be Kara. Roslin struggled to keep up with her as bodies poured into the duct.

***

Felix Gaeta sat in his cabin and sweated. He rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, trying to figure out what to do. A copy of the passenger manifest for the Bounty was spread across the sheets on his rack. The truth was that he thought he knew why the President had been abducted. Only if he told Adama the man would probably kill him where he stood. No, he’d probably take his time. To enjoy his suffering. Regardless, whatever Adama could think to do with him, Tigh would undoubtedly do worse. Much worse.

Gaeta had spent the remainder of his duty shift in front of a computer screen in what had been Baltar’s lab. He had stared into the face of Laura Roslin for what seemed like hours checking the illumination conditions, edge sharpness, resolution, tone, relative scale and noise characteristics of her image in the digital photograph. Everything checked out. Even image stenography revealed no abnormalities, no artefacts. He had delivered the information to the Admiral personally, nearly running into the man as his eyes were so used to focussing at a distance of less than a foot. The Admiral’s expression had been unreadable.

He looked at the manifest again, the name calling to him with the urgency of a Dradis contact. There had to be another way. A way he could let command know of his suspicions and continue to breathe in and out. He just hadn’t thought of it yet. Baltar had had plenty of flunkies, prostitutes and occupying Cylons on Colonial One. Any one of them could have overheard. Any one of them could have delivered the information.

Think, Felix, think.

Continued in part 3.